


Maze under Mistletoe

by ModernRomanticism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernRomanticism/pseuds/ModernRomanticism
Summary: Hermione is lost for her words when she is in the petrifying state of being under a mistletoe, not knowing how she ended up there, and how she was guided by a strange hummingbird. Draco Malfoy is lost for his words when his emotions from his childhood reaches its climax, and his unexplainable admiration for Hermione begins. Simply undoing the spell of white Christmas flowers forever flourishing above the two's heads won't end the connection between them, decided by a mysterious beautiful creature, by fate.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 12





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> These are not my characters or settings. All rightful credits goes to the extraordinary imagination of J.K. Rowling.

It was a cold winter morning, all living things still not fully awake from their beds to arise early, although every student was absolutely fully aware of the upcoming day that called out to them: Christmas Eve.  
And that very morning, there was just one student who could simply not wait any much longer under her tolerance. It was a shame that the time and setting was a Saturday, she thought, for if it was Monday or the other followings, each and every classmate of hers would be shaken out of their dorms by the excitement, and then a cheery day would begin once more. She thought in silence some more. Saturday. Christmas eves were always better on Fridays.  
It was always obvious to anyone that a Granger would never miss her daily routines, not even on such day. And so, the day begun, as she buried herself into her trunk, scrambling to look for a sweater and scarf, perhaps of her house colour. After all, red was already an essential colour for the spirit.  
If you, perhaps were standing right outside her window, observing her, rather, say, interesting mix and matching, you would have though her footsteps were the only pacing in the school. Which was, rather, quite incorrect. 

Far upon the opposite of the Gryffindor dorms, lay the Slytherins’ rooms of relaxation, decorated in an envious green, that would have made anyone who wasn’t familiar with the kind, uncomfortable. You could have found not one single sound made, at least, not that you could hear any.   
The footsteps pacing along the birch wood was tied in silence with a mute. That clearly stated someone was awake, under his unpredictable tolerance, to celebrate the holiday. But that may not had been the reason at all Draco Malfoy was up at this particular time of the day.  
He sat cross-legged on the edge of the old, half pressure-shattered window of his room, tangled in his navy green scarf. He hid his tilted sharp chin under the old piece of cloth, refusing to take off the clothing given to him from his mother years to count ago. He had carelessly yanked on a grey hoodie and kept warm of himself with the house robe.  
Draco wasn’t at all observing the Christmas products being imported to Hogwarts down below at the ground level, like another would do. Instead, he was staring far off into the distance, trying to wear out the echoes in his head.  
“-the best of you”  
“Don’t you understand?”  
“How could you-”  
He clasped his trembling hands over his ears and pleaded silently in his head, for those voices to cease. It never did.

Hermione had always fancied herself a simple stroll in the early mornings, though it wasn’t as early as she would have proposed. Her UGGs left steep footprints covering the whole snow plain.   
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She could feel the Christmas tingle on the tips of her fingers, and she could almost as if, hear, the delicacy of snowflakes at the edges of her chestnut curls. There was that memory floating backwards, of the muggle tradition of Christmas shopping with her parents before her first year. The great holiday reunion in that vintage mansion of her aunts, the moment she ripped open her presents finding her first book to be read of no illustrations, how she was gathered around with-  
Hermione’s eyelids fluttered back open at the sensation of a whirl of wind surrounding her. She looked around her, finding nothing but a beautiful hummingbird, in the colours of Christmas, chirping forcingly at her.  
“Oh, aren’t you a delicate little-” She lost her words as the little creature twirled around her, then forming a trail towards the hallways along the garden, Hermione’s gaze following, lost in words. Unexpectedly, her legs sped up to the speed, following behind the colourful bird.   
She felt the most blank and absentness, a strange tantalization towards the bird and its message it was trying to convey, perhaps. Her vision slowly blurred, seeing nothing but the hummingbird. She was all of a sudden such an emotionless person, nothing but escalating faster and faster behind the foreshadowing. She felt her legs stiffen, but yet they were galloping at a high speed, unaware of the pang of stinginess.  
And then nothing was in her vision, only the wind had stolen her awareness, and she came to the most astonishing sudden stop at the edge of the hallway window. Her legs came back to her own consciousness and flopped down to the icy cold floor.   
She started panting, hard. She wheezed and coughed, gasping for oxygen as if all in her lungs had been lost. Not one thing of the few seconds before was remembered, and as she helped herself up, she was absolutely petrified of how she ended up in such place.  
She lifted her legs, desperate to return to her dormitory for rest and thinking, but they were enforced down by a frightening force around her. She lifted her hand slowly and applied it stretched out in front of her, but the same gravitational push strapped her muscular system right back. Her eyes were at the limitation of popping right out, and she could almost hear the thudding of her heart. It wasn’t excitement, of happiness and serendipity, it was of terror, and the highest rank of panic.  
As if her knowledgeful brain finally returned to its belonging, she lifted her pale face upwards, and there, she spotted herself trapped under a mistletoe.  
She tilted her head to her left, eagerly searching for the naughty little creature that lead her here.  
“Damn it.”   
Hermione jumped around at the sound of another person here. Yes, she could be freed if the person was kind enough to lend her their wand to unjinx this spell. As she opened her mouth to clear her throat, she suffered yet another case of surprises. She could clearly see, without knowing to pinch herself, that the very Draco Malfoy was standing right next to her, positively confused.   
“What, how did I…” He snapped his head upwards, with a moment of softened hesitation, shot a glare at her. She stared back, simply blankly. Hermione watched as Draco desperately lifted his arms and legs, and saw him being pushed back by an invisible force, somewhat circling around him.   
Ignoring the quizzed and awkward atmosphere Draco had created, she glanced upwards of his head, eyes still wide with a strange mixture of curiosity. “What is it?” He snapped, following her gaze to the marble ceiling. He gasped and quickly covered himself with a disgusted cough.   
The mistletoe which once grew above the girl’s head had flourished madly entangled in itself, right above Draco Malfoy’s. The two students hung their mouths wide open, and the last they saw before collapsing onto the floor was the Christmas coloured hummingbird fluttering away into the faraway distance.


	2. The Arrubtion Hermione Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short brief, not-so foreshadowing chapter of the two character's awkward relationship...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are not my characters or settings. All rightful credits goes to the extraordinary imagination of J.K. Rowling.

After what felt like hours of silence, Hermione snapped her head up with impatience. “Well? Where did you come from?” She waited for her reply a bit too long in her opinion.  
“Excuse me?” It was annoying how she was the only one talking. But Draco simply grunted, threw her an unpleasant long, frightening glare with his icy eyes.   
In what seemed like less than a quarter of a second, Hermione spotted a sensation of tingling butterflies in her stomach as she stared hard back into those grey pupils. There was nothing to be seen in there, but she felt something as she had never felt before. A kind of belonging to somewhere in that surface of silver pigment. There were glittering patterns inside of them… Somewhat too blurry to tell. The pupils were, as if, softening for a rare moment. And just as then, the world had started to stretch in different directions blurring together, leaving nothing but Draco’s character in her vision.   
But the next second it had fallen. Draco’s head slumped back down. She stayed silence, thinking for a while, taking small side glances at him the next few minutes, and waited for someone to speak.  
“Well,” She finally managed to confirm. “I know you probably think I’ve gone bloody mad, but I’m positive that I was led here by a Christmas colour spirited bird of what sort. Of course, I don’t know how I was forced to follow it, but-”   
She paused abruptly and stared at Draco, whom was obviously to her, was putting his mind on something else. She frowned angrily. “Oh, all right. It’s fine that you weren’t listening to what I was saying, and its fine that you’re doing nothing helpful of the sort, and its fine that you obviously, do not care!” She looked towards the other side and gritted her teeth.  
“Actually, I was doing all of those at the same time, but obviously you couldn’t see that, could you? And it came obvious to me that you were going to spill everything out once you couldn’t resist the urge to break the silence, which in fact, means a victory flag to me.” He smirked.   
Hermione opened her mouth for fierce rebuttals, but Draco cut her off calmly. “Yes, I was led here by a bloody hummingbird, and yes, fortunately for both you and me, I have not one single clue how I came to follow to here. End of story, now zip it.”  
Her mouth stayed open in the same position for a few aftershocks, and snapped shut. This made the Slytherin smile as he clicked his tongue. “Ooh la la! Having a Granger shut up without further arguments. Another win.”   
Hermione sprung upwards, widening her lips to speak. And after seeing Draco stare with glee towards her, the words she formed in her mind were all lost, and it was like having no control over herself.   
His pale face was filled with rosy out-spirts at the lining of his cheeks. His hair was ruffled and covered with a light layer of snow sprinkles. His eyes, oh damn those eyes. They locked with hers, and not one blink or flutter of eyelids. His lips, soft, moisture, a light pink shade of thin lining.   
The chestnut-haired girl hollered angrily into his face without second thoughts. “Why do you always have to be so damn cute?”


	3. Breakouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are not my characters or settings. All rightful credits goes to the extraordinary imagination of J.K. Rowling.

There was an awkward pause. If you could stand right in front of the two, the only sound present would had been the light gasps Hermione was choking through, and the puffs of smokes Draco formed, blowing into the chilly air.  
The girl stood standing, as if she was hoping for oxygen to reach her brain, and thoroughly explain to her nervous system, why in so many fucking choices of words to say she chose the 10 words she herself didn’t even feel was right?  
How on earth was Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin, a future death-eater, a typical jerk, oh, there was so many negative comments she would be happy to throw at him. How was he, a Malfoy, being attracted to her attention? The thought of him in her head would be fairly unreasonable enough already, now this? Disastrous.   
She peeked a glance at Draco, her teeth gritted in anxiety. She could see him shifting uncomfortably, staring off uneasily into the distance. Okay, she thought. So we’re going to pretend nothing happened.   
“Okay, okay okay…did you bring your wand?” She asked. The reply came as a no. “And…do you know any other ways to break a mistletoe?” The answer was the same as before.   
Silence.  
Hermione could take this no more. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake! Oh my god, this is so bloody messed up!” She pulled onto her hair, so hard with power, it might’ve been pretty much plucked out of her. “Why can’t we just, I don’t know! Go back in time or something and just not come out of our dormitories? God, this is situation is so…pathetic.”   
Draco sighed as he muttered under his breath. “You are pathetic.” His companion rose up so quickly, so forcefully, blowing a rush of cold air into his face. “You, are such a cockroach! You’re even more pathetic! The, um, pathetic-ness of this entire situation is your fault, and you know it. You’re being such a baby, by doing and thinking of absolutely NOTHING. Your existence is not helping. It is making things even worse. Mr. Malfoy, allow me to summarize what conflict we are currently in here. We, you and I, are stuck under a bloody mistletoe, and none of us have a wand, or anything to get ourselves rid of this. And now, you are just simply being pathetic, getting on my nerves, getting us bloody stuck here forever! Happy? I suppose you are.”  
Draco trembled as he rushed upwards to stand. “Is this all my fault? Is the life I was forced to live in my fault? Is my anxiety my fault? Is me coming out for a stroll and meeting you, my fault? Granger, I understand that you truly do hate me, and I understand what it is like, to be engraved under with your worse fear, being controlled in your life!”   
“I do not understand, Malfoy, how you are even-”  
“Am I not a human-being as well? I might as well be a cold-hearted cockroach, but the heart is there. Have you ever been forced and been under lessons leading you to utter complete darkness? Have you been threatened, have your family been threatened, almost killed, and have you been the only who can save them? How would you react, if right here right now, you want to help, and you want to be part of this actual world that’s normal for all the other people to live in, but this world scribbles down the words, you are not welcome? Tell me, how would you react if you could just finally escape reality, escape from everything you are enforced under, just for a little while, under the mistletoe with your enemy? Can I not have some time where I can just be truly me? Today, in millions of days, was the first time I had ever, felt truly calm, and worriless. Yes, under the mistletoe.”  
“Why on earth under the mistletoe?” Hermione roared.  
“Because, because, it’s just the way it is! Oh god, Hermione Granger! Can you just…Oh god, just let me…bloody hell…Alright, fine, whatever. Okay, let’s just do this and you’ll get to be free.”   
His icy cold fingers snatched Hermione’s shoulders, and with trembling force pulled them towards himself. She could see, but she didn’t dare tell him, that tears were forming in his eyes, his hair wet from sweat, his forehead and face red and his lips shaking.   
Her stubborn mind and heart, all of a sudden, as if heated with the burnt of fire, felt pain, pain which felt like a knife being pushed into the very centre of her world. Was she truly to leave him in such misery and woe of the kind? What he said… lessons which led him to darkness? In such time, Hermione, for the first time, had felt pity for him.   
'Everyone has their moment of utter complete insanity. Everyone receives one of those enormous breakouts. Hermione, dear, to every single one of those people, those people who have received it, those people who are having it now the very moment, and those who are to, have a reason for what their mind is telling them to do. And what you can do, my dear, is to understand them, and to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. And if those shoes you are put in, you can’t fit in, you just no matter what cannot understand, Hermione, all you are left to do is to try. Try to understand them. Give them your warmth, and tell them and assure them everything would be fine.' Once, a lesson taught by her grandmother, such long ago.  
Oh, she thought. How she missed her. And as she lifted up her chin to seeing Draco, she truly felt guilty. His eyes were squinted, huge blobs of salty water from fear streamed down his cheeks. Was she such a horrible person, was she so absolutely forcing?   
And feeling that she was the cause to this massive breakout, she held a finger and pressed it to his trembling lips which now had become so pale. She pushed him out of her reach. “No,” She said. “No.” She repeated more determinedly. “We can think of another way to do this. Just… please just take a rest. And…act as if I said no such thing. I’m sorry.”  
She watched fearfully as Draco slumped to the ground, sobbing, like a lifeless body. She stayed in her position, standing. She put her hands to her hips and adjusted her hair. But no matter how she acted, she felt hopeless. That Hermione spirit which once blossomed in her, was at the time, gone, far away. She didn’t know what to do.  
And it scared her.


End file.
